18. Deliverance is at Hand.

It was almost a year after D-Day that war in Europe would end and apart from the obvious disadvantages of being cut off from their last supply-lines in France, the latter weeks of 1944 saw the commencement of one of the coldest winters on the Island’s records. With fuel and oil running low, there was no option but to commence clearing gardens of bushes and trees in order to heat homes. Despite orders prohibiting the cutting down of trees in public parks and domains, many large branches would disappear as the temperatures continued to drop. Bakeries, which were issued with special supplies of oil for their ovens to maintain the bread rations, were instructed to assist civilians. In order to preserve the trees from ending up fuelling the family stove, bakers were to accept the prepared cooking pots brought to the bakeries by local residents to be placed in the ovens, thus utilising the residual heat left after the day’s bake was finished.

Irene continued to glean twigs and small branches for their small improvised heaters and water boilers in order to keep Michael warm and his bottles and food at a satisfactory temperature. Every walk with the pram was a major search for any flammable item, as every other citizen had the same need. Things were looking grim as everyone was living off the little ‘fat’ they had on their bodies, as the proportion of locally-grown crops requisitioned by the German garrison increased and the amount of fresh produce decreased in the almost-freezing conditions.

It was on one of these walks that she passed a house that seemed, quite literally, to talk to her. She was surprised when from this semi-detached, three-storey villa, she heard, “I’m waiting for you”.  It was set on the corner of a lane near the top of a hill which had a magnificent view out over the harbour and across to neighbouring islands.

At first she thought she was hallucinating due to the hunger pangs she experienced from time to time but, each time she took that particular route on one of her walks with Michael, the house whispered the same message. In the interest of her own peace of mind, she determined to push it from her mind, not even mentioning it to Gilbert. Eventually, she made it a matter of prayer, committing it to her Heavenly Father and each time she went that way in future she responded in her heart, “My Father knows about it.”

As Michael grew and his clothes became too small, Irene and Gilbert would look for opportunities to ‘trade-up’. Where no suitable warm clothes were available, they were forced to unravel knitted items and roll the wool into balls. The wool of two items could be combined and re-knitted into one larger item. As the goat population diminished, the special goat’s milk he required (due to his allergy to cow’s milk) was unable to be obtained. The vegetable types he could eat were also becoming scarcer. Despite these set-backs, he remained in relatively good health. He was an active boy but his resistance was low due to his diet.

One day, about this time, Michael escaped through the open front door, climbed over the front gate and headed for the circular fish pond which formed the centre-piece of the round-about at the end of the cul-de-sac. The pond was full of green water-weed, which sustained two or three very lucky goldfish who had survived the Germans’ dinner plates. In no time Michael was soaked to the skin and coated with slimy green algae.

Suddenly realising that he was missing, I dashed from room to room, out into the back yard and finally to the front door – still ajar, in a frantic search. As I emerged from the house I heard an excited shriek from the pond and there saw the ‘little adventurer’, blue faced and shivering but totally absorbed in his task of communicating with its frighted, be-scaled occupants.

Through shivering, pale lips he stuttered, “I…I…I w-w-went to s-s-see the f-f-fishies” as I rushed him indoors to dry him down and wrap him in warm blankets, there being no hot water at the time. Thankfully he survived with little or no side-effects despite the coldness of the season.

Finally…a belated Christmas gift arrived on Wednesday December 27^th, a rather battered-looking old Swedish vessel ‘Vega’ arrived with a cargo load of Red Cross relief aid.

These were only to be for the civilian population. Once again, we had to queue for hours. Each of us received an eleven pound [5kg] parcel of REAL FOOD. We were like children at a Christmas party…which I suppose it was…as we undid the cartons. Each was filled with all kinds of goodies…long forgotten delicacies – real tea, real coffee, real biscuits, chocolate, marmalades and jams, tinned meat, cheese, boiled sweets. They had been prepared and sent from the Canadian and New Zealand Red Cross Societies. [How grateful we are to those who gave to the Red Cross in those days. We say a big “Thankyou” to you all.]

It took real discipline to receive parcels like that and not consume them all in one sitting. In the church services there was a real air of thankfulness for this provision but, as their shepherd, Gilbert took time to remind his people to be careful and frugal with what they had received. It was the talking point of the entire population for many days and some people were seen with their precious carton under their arm, taking it everywhere so as to not have it stolen from them.

On the other hand, certain of the German Authorities [as noted in a previous chapter], were working on a scheme which would enable them to get their hands on the greater share of the civilian ration, despite the Hague Convention rules for occupying forces clearly forbidding such an action.

Amongst some divisions of the rank and file there were a few breaches of discipline as reports were given of some troops digging up civilian gardens, begging for food scraps, even vegetable peelings, at civilian doors. Others broke into houses to steal. All the cats and dogs in the Island also disappeared. As a general rule however, it was recognised that the level of discipline of the German troops as a whole was commendable…quite possibly second-to-none

There appears to have been just one ‘official’ report of a soldier stealing a Red Cross parcel despite the ‘rumour-mill’ circulating many others.

Conversely, there was one remarkable story of a soldier who, having assisted a housewife with a small job in the house where he was billeted, was offered a cigarette in thanks. When he saw the pack carried the brand name of the type brought by the ‘Vega’ he resolutely refused to accept it as it was from the Red Cross, General von Schmettow having specifically so ordered.  

Amongst the civilians, there were many who took pity on the troops as the rummaged through rubbish tins and compost heaps, whilst their officers were reported (by the islanders who cooked for them) to be eating quite well in their officers’ club. There were reports of civilians sharing their own meagre rations with them.

The ‘Vega” returned again each month (six times altogether) but with each subsequent visit the numbers of parcels were a little less and some people had to wait a little longer. About January, supplies of all the flour on the island ran out. There was no longer even a small bread ration. It was at this time that Gilbert and I lived on parsnips only, for three weeks. Anything left over from the parcels we kept for Michael. Milk rations were first reduced to be based upon whatever the troops leave in surplus each day…then they ceased altogether. Water was available for five hours each day but no gas, no electricity and no heating fuel. Even twigs and leaves from the trees were getting scarce…just bare, thick branches and tree trunks lined the parks and lanes. Wood from the packing cases that held the Red Cross parcels was put up for sale but stocks sold out in hours.

Then, we heard on our little crystal-set radio that the war in Europe was coming to an end. Our spirits lifted and we were filled with hope, only to be brought down to earth with news that the Commandant – Admiral Huffmeier, an ardent Nazi, had vowed that he would never surrender the Islands to the Allies.

When he took over the role of the deposed von Schmettow in February 1945, Huffmeier had stated quite categorically:

“I have only one aim: to hold out until final victory!

I believe in the mission of our Fuhrer and of our people.

I shall serve them with immutable loyalty; Heil to our beloved Fuhrer!”

A report in Deutsche Guernsey Zeitung, a paper produced principally for the troops, reported on one of the Admiral’s speeches to the garrison, as late as March 19^th, 1945:

‘Vice-Admiral Huffmeier left no doubt in the minds of his audience that, with firm, unshakeable faith in the victory of our just cause, he is determined to hold as a pledge, to the very end, the Channel Islands which have been entrusted to him by the Fuhrer.

A settlement of accounts with the Anglo-American Force, arms in hand, is quite possible and perhaps not far ahead…

Those who kept within their hearts the ideal of National Socialism, in its original purity, will have the upper hand…’

With the Allies having already crossed well into Germany and the fall of the Reich imminent, this dangerously fanatical man was threatening to hold the world at ransom with the Islands’ civilian population as his hostage.

Gilbert called on his congregations to pray, as other ministers would also have done, that peace may be won at the cost of no lives.

Throughout the last week of April and the first week of May, everything continued as ‘normal’. The Red Cross released its seventh round of parcels on April 25th, with an additional ration of six ounces of flour, four and half ounces of butter and three ounces of meat – what a bonus.

Hearts were cheered one day then downcast the next as mixed news reports of our situation were discussed amongst the people. Each one drew their own conclusion. Gilbert and I endeavoured to keep our hearts set on knowing God’s will for helping our church folk.

May 1^st brought news on the BBC of the death of Adolf Hitler and expectations soared again.

‘Vega’ arrived again on May 5^th and two days later the eighth issue of parcels was completed. The following afternoon, Tuesday May 8^th at 3pm, every ear listened to a (hidden, secret) crystal-set or radio as the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill made a special BBC broadcast…

“…Hostilities end officially at one minute after midnight on Tuesday the eighth of May, but in the interests of saving life in the ‘cease-fire’, began yesterday to be sounded all along the front, and our dear Channel Islands are also to be freed today…”

Our Procurer declared that flags may be flown from 3 o’clock but that all celebrations should be held back until the arrival of the British Forces arrived… There was, however, an official Service of Thanksgiving held that evening in the St. Sampson’s Church. Many of our Elim congregations gathered together, unhindered by any curfew, for prayer meetings at Eldad, Vazon and Delancey. There was not much sleep for anyone that night.

The German garrison’s padre requested permission to conduct a thanksgiving service of their own, at the end of which he wrote a brief note in the Register of Church Services:

“I give my thanks for all the love of Christ which has come to us in this House of God during our stay in Guernsey. I pray that the Lord may lead the world towards the Eternal goal of His Heavenly Kingdom and establish Peace higher than all human understanding”

Meanwhile, Admiral Huffmeier spoke to a parade at the Regal Cinema, site of his usual mass-gatherings, at which he spouted his usual Nazi rhetoric. His last address was no disappointment…defiant and radical to the end. He instructed that if and when the British soldiers arrived, his soldiers should salute them in the streets, as was military custom… but with the Nazi salute!

In the morning, to our great joy, we awoke to see the Royal Navy destroyer ‘HMS Bulldog’, with its escorting vessels, on the horizon a few miles to the south-west of the Island. Our hearts leapt at the sight of them.

Unbeknown to most ashore, in the waters to the south-west of the Island, negotiations had been under way since early the previous afternoon.  At precisely 2pm on Tuesday, May 8^th, a rather rusty old German minesweeper, hove-to a short distance from the HMS Bulldog, flying the swastika. A small rubber dingy was launched from the minesweeper. Three soldiers paddled in the front through the choppy waters whilst a tall, skinny, young naval officer sat in the stern. The officer was piped aboard in a traditional naval salute. As he arrived at the top of the gangway, briefcase tucked under his arm and soaking wet from his short journey, he had the audacity to snap to attention, click his heels and give the Nazi salute. He was swiftly escorted below to be met with an icy response. He was Lieutenant Commander Zimmerman, one of Admiral Huffmeier’s own clique of arrogant, radical, young Nazis. He declared he came bearing a paper which authorised him to receive the terms of armistice, to be taken to the Admiral.

Brigadier Snow informed him coolly that this was not a matter of armistice but of surrender – immediate, total surrender – and that he was to return to the Admiral with the necessary papers. An instruction was then issued for him to keep another rendezvous, in the company of the Admiral or an officer empowered to sign the surrender. Zimmerman acknowledged the arrangement but then, as he stood to his feet he declared, “I am instructed to inform you that your ships must withdraw from these waters otherwise Admiral Huffmeier will regard their presence as a breach of faith and a provocative act.”

Observers to this outburst observed he seemed to be trembling and had broken out in a sweat, perhaps in shock at his own boldness or bravado in making such a rash and undiplomatic threat. Brigadier Snow and his officers were taken aback and most certainly not amused.

The Brigadier is reputed to have snapped back, “You tell Admiral Huffmeier that if he opens fire on us, we’ll hang him tomorrow!”

 As a matter of precaution, ‘Bulldog’ and its escort destroyer ‘Beagle’ withdrew a safe distance to await a signal of advice that the surrender party was returning.

On his return to base there were apparently discussions involving General Heine, Major von Aufsess, Zimmerman and the Admiral, whereupon it was decided that General Heine should be empowered to sign the surrender. The Admiral was, by now, afraid of his own troops and did not want to risk going to the harbour to join the boat to the rendezvous as he feared for his life. Under orders from his superiors he agreed to make the surrender and not follow through with his previous threats to make a final stand which was to have culminated in the blowing up of all the arms and ammunition on the Island.

Von Aufsess’ diary notes, in which he gives a summary of the events of the day and the danger which was narrowly avoided, make interesting reading:

‘The actual surrender of the Island came as something of an anti-climax, although not, unfortunately, without its dramatic moments.

The Admiral, in a fit of silly pique and pride, first threatened to fire on the English ships when they arrived a few hours ahead of time. The ships withdrew, but he lost his one and only chance of negotiation and merely angered the victorious enemy.

To exacerbate things further, his envoy… the theatrical Zimmerman…greeted the [British] Commander with an up-flung arm and a ‘Hitler’ salute. One can only guess at the feelings of the astounded British Officer, but must assume…he was both offended and outraged. We felt the effects of this in the inimical manner in which we were subsequently treated. With one foolish gesture of defiance, all the goodwill earned by the troops in years of exemplary behaviour had been destroyed.

That the Admiral surrendered…was due to the orders he received directly from his supreme commander, Donitz…but his intention came perilously near to being put into effect…’

It is believed von Aufsess had a hand in guiding the surrender back on track without further ado.

It was after midnight when Heine finally came aboard ‘Bulldog’ bearing the rather feeble note from the Admiral that he had allowed the civilian population to fly flags and hold religious services and therefore expected his troops to react negatively. This, he reported, had happened and he was not in a position to come and meet the Brigadier personally for fear of retribution from his own men. He had, however, furnished Heine with full authority to sign the unconditional surrender.

In the early hours, in the company of Captain Reich, Major von Aufsess performed his last duty as an officer of the Occupation Force. In a very brief address in English, he made the formal return of the Island to the States of Guernsey with the single sentence: “The war is over; we herewith hand the islands back to you.”

The two sides faced each other and with wordless bows, the transaction was complete.

As von Aufsess and Reich took their leave from the building, the two policemen on duty at the door saluted the departing Germans politely.

Soon after dawn, the Islands were free!

We had heard earlier, on our radio that the war, for us, was all over which filled our hearts with such gratitude to the Lord and gave us such joy and excitement.

In the Close, where we lived, there was activity at General Heine’s house…many comings and goings. We and many others had seen him leave hurriedly and now we knew why. He had been aboard ‘HMS Bulldog’ signing surrender terms with the British in the early hours of morning. By the time he returned, the entire Close was decorated with streamers and Union Jacks flew from almost every window; things we had hidden for years in hope of this day. What excitement!!

Some of the men had wound red, white and blue streamers right around General Heine’s house, even across his front door. When he arrived back home he was under escort by two British sailors. He had come to collect a few of his things before going off to the prison. He stepped from his car, walked to his front door, unlocked it and then stooped down low enough so as to get under the streamers without breaking them. The crowd stood silently and watched as he re-emerged from under the streamers and returned to the vehicle. No one said a word. None uttered any abuse. I was proud to be British that day!

Then, there was a flurry of excitement when word was spread that British soldiers would soon be coming ashore. Gilbert stayed with Michael at the house whilst I hurried down with some of the neighbours to the quayside. It was packed. What a crowd. Such excitement and overflowing of rejoicing from everyone. It all seemed so unbelievable! We watched in awe as twenty five soldiers and an officer arrived, marched to the port flagpole, pulled down the Nazi flag and hoisted the Union Jack. With tears in every eye, the crowd cheered, laughed, yelled, whistled and then sang “God save Our King”. The soldiers were then mobbed as they were hugged, kissed, having their hands shaken over and over again.

Not long after, the first of many landing craft arrived and 300 troops marched up the quayside, throwing sweets to the excited children who lined the streets. Tears of joy as we were able to touch the uniforms of our men see the British shoulder flashes and welcome them as our liberators. For us, this day was one of unforgettable experiences – the clouds had rifted and the sunshine broken through for us all.

Brigadier Snow arrived in St Peter Port, after accepting the surrender in Jersey, to then accept the Admiral’s own surrender. Huffmeier explained that he could not hand over his sword (as is usual in naval tradition), because he had already destroyed it, in accordance with his orders from his High Command. After signing the papers, he was marched to the quay to be taken by launch to the ‘HMS Faulkner’.

One event of the day which has lived since with Gilbert, occurred at about 2 pm when he and our baker (who was also a Methodist lay preacher) arrived down to the docks just at the time when Admiral Huffmeier was being escorted to the boat. Again the crowds stood and watched in near silence. Between the tall British ‘Tommies’, the Admiral seemed a diminutive figure, marching in his full uniform with head bowed and  shoulders hunched…the hem of his long great-coat almost dragging on the ground. At that moment Mr Plummer placed his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder and quoted a verse from the Book of Psalms “This is the Lord’s doing, it is marvellous in our eyes.” [118 v23]